


sweetest in your sleep

by Blueberries (Blueberries_Pen)



Category: DCU, Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Teen Titans - All Media Types
Genre: Breaking and Entering, M/M, Markers, Object Insertion, Sex Tape, Somnophilia, Watersports, cum stuffing, dick doesn’t deserve this, slade is utterly delusional
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:07:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26079973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueberries_Pen/pseuds/Blueberries
Summary: After four months away, Slade breaks into Dick’s home and has some fun with his sleeping body.
Relationships: Slade Wilson/Dick Grayson
Comments: 22
Kudos: 217





	sweetest in your sleep

**Author's Note:**

> This is not up to my usual standard, please don’t judge my other fics based on this. I wrote this in like two hours while sleep deprived, please be gentle 😭 idk, I might come to my senses and delete this tomorrow when I am utterly mortified at this so whatever.

Slade enters quietly through the window, the new locks on it barely giving him pause. Grayson, to his credit, stirs almost immediately though his breathing doesn’t change, just a slight uptick in his heartbeat. Any moment, he’ll realize who it is and go for his weapons, which of course Slade can’t allow. 

The kid is fast, but Slade is faster, striking out and jamming a needle into the boy’s neck before he can even rise an inch. He holds the boy down till his struggles cease, and then another minute, just be sure, then gets up to set up the camera. He doesn’t want to miss a single second, and then gets back up over the boy and proceeds to rip the boy’s clothes apart.

He can already hear the boy’s complaints in his head.

_ My clothes, really, Slade? I liked my pajamas, damn it. _

“You should really learn to just sleep naked,” Slade chides, tearing the boy’s underwear in two. A brief thought crosses his mind as to why he even bothers to drug the boy when he’s still hearing the boy’s damn awful complaints in his head, but well.

Sometimes, after a four month contract, all he really wants to do to get rid of his pent up frustration is  _ fuck,  _ and he’s not really in the mood for the boy’s usual struggles and protests. He doesn’t know why the boy even bothers – he always came, so he clearly enjoyed it on  _ some  _ level.

He turns the boy over onto his stomach, making sure to turn his head so he doesn’t suffocate, and gropes the boy’s bouncy ass, letting out a sharp whistle. Damn, how he’d missed that pretty ass the past months. 

The rim is dry and tight – clearly, the boy hadn’t been practicing much these past months either. “Pity,” Slade muses aloud. He certainly doesn’t have the patience to stretch the boy out now. The boy’s just going to have to live with it – if he didn’t want it to to hurt, he should have prepped himself for it. Of course, Slade thinks as he spits over the boy’s hole – Slade  _ likes  _ it like that, likes how tight the boy gets, how Slade has to force every inch of his dick in.

Dick’s body is pliant as Slade manoeuvres it, none of his usual protests getting in the way, and Slade feels a thrill of pleasure. The kid is so vulnerable now, so open and weak and helpless – Slade could do  _ anything _ to him right now, and Dick wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing to stop him. 

Not that it ever stopped Slade before either.

His cock head presses against the rim, and with a shove, Slade is in. Dick’s too deep in drugged sleep to even make a sound besides the exhale of his breath. Slade shoves again, closing his eye and savouring the warmth hugging his cock, and his smirk transforms into a full blown grin as he feels a hot wetness surround his cock. 

The boy’s bleeding. Usually, he’d be screaming right about now, but instead, he sleeps, open mouthed and already drooling a little, utterly peaceful, a sharp contrast to the blood dribbling out of him.

“Smile for the camera, kid,” Slade croons, giving the boy’s face an affectionate pat before he starts to really hammer in, forcing himself all the way in.

Fucking hell, he’s  _ missed  _ this.

Nothing really can compare to his boy’s ass. And how he’s able to just let loose completely, without having to worry about the boy getting ideas like fighting back? It just makes it more perfect. Of course, he likes it when the boy fights back, likes it when he needs to beat the boy down, hold him trapped and fuck him while the boy curses and sobs and swears that next time Slade  _ won’t  _ succeed when they both know the cycle will only repeat, but this – this is peaceful, relaxing, and exactly what he needs to soothe his nerves.

When he comes, it’s with a groan of relief, releasing his come deep into the boy’s ass. Deep enough that it would stay for days. Really, all the people Slade’s laid with, and not a single one takes cock as well as Grayson. Sometimes, Slade thinks he should have been a prostitute instead of a hero – then at least he’d get paid. 

“Fucking perfect whore,” he says, after he’s flipped the boy over only to see his half-hard cock. He wonders if he can make the boy come in his sleep without touching his cock or balls. He takes it as a challenge, and starts his fucking again, bending the boy’s body practically in half to get that perfect angle. Even if the boy’s in the depths of unconsciousness, Slade has spent enough time fucking him he knows exactly the angle to hit to make him hard.

Slade comes again, but Dick doesn’t yet, which is a damn shame.

While he waits for himself to harden, he bites a hickey into the side of the boy’s neck, high enough that it’ll be visible above the boy’s collars. “Bet you’ll have to answer some pretty interesting questions, tomorrow, huh, boy?” He murmurs, sucking it till it’s deep red.

If the boy were awake, this is probably where he’d say,  _ Fuck you,  _ in a tone that was angry and resentful but also a little aroused, that let Slade know that what he was really saying was,  _ Fuck me, please. _

“I’ll gladly oblige,” Slade answers easily to the most definitely unasked pleas, fucking him, again and again, gripping the boy’s hips with enough force till it’ll bruise. He makes Dick come, once, white spurting beautifully all over his stomach and chest, and then switches over completely to his own pleasure.

Blood and cum stain the sheets and the boy’s thighs as Slade fucks him rough and hard, each thrust shaking the bed with the force of it. Maybe, if he's feeling nice, he’ll get the boy a better one when he’s done. He slows down eventually, after the initial buildup of energy falls. They have the rest of the night after all.

He slows, but doesn’t stop for a single second.

He fucks the boy in so many different positions, all over his bed. He comes in him, on him, over his mouth and ass and paints the boy all in white – till he’s fucking glowing in white. Halfway through, he picks the boy up, tying his body to him with his hard cock still in him as he wanders to the kitchen, getting a little hungry from the energy expenditure. As excepted, it barely has anything. He still manages to whip something up, shovelling it down along with a cartoon of milk from the fridge while still bouncing the boy’s still pliant body on his lap, come dribbling to the kitchen floor. He leaves the leftovers in the fridge. 

Never let it be said that he was a rude guest.

He then goes back to the boy’s bed, and continues to fuck him till dawn.

By the time he’s done, the boy’s stomach is bloated, and the slightest pressure has cum spilling out. 

That offends Slade, so he sticks his cock inside one more time, and comes in him again. He’s prepared, this time, and shoves one of the boy’s escrima sticks in to stop the cum from dribbling out. The boy’s rim stretches obscenely around it, puffy and red and bloodied, and still resisting somewhat, but Slade pushes it in as far as he can, till only the tip peaks out. He presses down on the boy’s stomach and can almost feel the head on it against his palm. It’s such a beautiful sight, Slade has to get the camera to get a really good view of it. 

_ Pretty boy,  _ he thinks fondly, brushing the boy’s cum covered hair away from his forehead. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss against the boy’s bruised and battered body. Slade hasn’t been gentle, and it shows in the bruises and hickeys already forming all over his body, all over his neck encircling it in a parady of a collar, bites over his shoulders and collarbones and deep red circles on his thighs.

A marker on the boy’s desk catches his eye, and Slade’s mind lights up. He grabs it, and writes in large letters, ‘ _ Free fleshlight available here’  _ with an arrow pointing down to his hole over the boy’s lower back. And once he starts, he can’t stop, writing derogatory words all over the boy’s body. Whore and slut on the inside of his thighs, letters climbing up his arms and over his chest and down his thighs.

But really, with how much the boy is so  _ good  _ at it, it’s a compliment, really. 

The boy’s lips are parted, bruised and smeared with come just like the rest of him, but he looks so  _ sweet  _ and docile that Slade can’t help but give him another kiss. In the morning light, he glows like some fae out of a fairytale, rosy cheeks and bright skin, like something created with the sole purpose of tempting him. 

Slade gives in so easily to him. 

To his sweet,  _ perfect _ little boy.

If only he wouldn’t  _ resist _ so much. 

Slade’s eyes flick over him, humming as he decides there’s still  _ something _ missing. 

There’s a pressure on his bladder and well, when it comes to Dick, Slade’s never been able to resist. He aims and releases, letting yellow liquid spill all over the boy, over his hips and back and down the crack of his ass, and some spilling into his mouth. Considering he drank about three quarters a carton of milk, there’s a lot. It soaks into the boy’s skin, into his mattress, the room filling with the scent of his release.

He finishes, tilting his head as he eyes Dick one last time, nods in satisfaction, gathers up his stuff, and leaves with a care.

Graciously, he locks the window behind him. Wouldn’t do for anyone else to find his birdie like that after all.

Dick is his, and  _ only  _ his.

-/-

Dick wakes up with a groan, body aching. Slade must have dropped up unannounced and raped him again. Fucking bastard and – what the  _ hell?  _ The smell, did he– of fucking course he did. And judging by the ache in his ass, he cranes his neck down to look and yup, that’s his escrima stick. And did Slade write in permanent marker all over him? And holy  _ fuck,  _ did Slade spend hours mauling his neck or something because just shifting it hurt like a fucking bitch.

Great. His mattress is ruined, his pajamas are ruined, his ass is ruined, is there anything that Slade didn’t fuck up? 

He lays a ginger hand over his stomach, going to run a frazzled hand through his hair only to scowl at how  _ crusty  _ it is. Motherfucker. What is Slade’s obsession with marking him?

His hands clench helplessly in his sheets. He  _ hates  _ this.

All the come over him – is it even possible for one person to release so much? He knows Slade’s possessive, but… fucking hell, how many times had Slade threatened to share him and pass him around? A lump of panic begins to develop. Slade’s professional enough to keep it quiet most of the time except for a vaguely ambiguous taunting comment here or there, but anyone else…

His chest tightens.

_ Beep beep. _

Glaring, Dick considers not picking up his phone, but ultimately does. He scowls even harder when he sees the sender is Slade.

“Fucker,” he curses, feeling his eyes burn, as he opens the message. 

It’s a picture. Several pictures. Of him, in various positions. 

_ Thought you might want to appreciate your beauty, pretty bird,  _ is the message.

Dick’s internal screaming intensifies.

The last one is a video – eight hours long. Dick swallows, and plays it, speeding it up considerably. But though he watches the screen avidly, there’s no one else, only Slade.

As soon the video finishes, Dick drops his phone, hands shaking and breath stuttering, relieved.

The knot in his chest loosens, and he cries, this time out of relief. Slade, at least, is a known factor. No one else is involved.

_ Beep beep. _

Another message.

_ There’s food in the fridge. Real food,  _ the message reads.  _ Go eat. You’ll need your energy. _

Dick wipes away his tears.

_ Asshole,  _ he types, hands still shaking.  _ Don’t come back. _

_ I’ll be back before you miss me,  _ Slade sends back.

Dick swears, and resists the urge to throw his phone at the wall.

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> First time writing something so short and so quickly. It’s kinda meh and you can tell. I’ll hate this tomorrow, probably. But now is the time for bad decisions so I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
